Gloriosa Generosa
by GrapeLeaf
Summary: This story takes place before the plotline of FFVII, during ShinRa's war on Wutai, which was briefly mentioned in a side - quest in the game. It comes from my imaginings that Sephiroth was probably at least a strangely honorable man before Jenova took him


"Gloriosa Generosa"  
  
By Jules (C) JKD '00. All FFVII charas (C) Squaresoft '97, used without permission. The story is mine. Please ask before quoting, linking, MSTing or distributing. C&C, comments and MSTs welcome.  
  
  
  
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Sephiroth glanced upwards toward the sky, knowing instantly that something not quite right was going on close to where he stood. Perhaps it was his exquisitely keen intuition that told him so.  
  
Or perhaps it was the faint sound of a woman crying. Not that that, in itself, was unusual. After all, it was war, and cries of the Wutain women were common. Their men were being killed. That was regrettable, but Sephiroth had not been trained to question the will of ShinRa, only to carry it out.  
  
But there was something in the faint cry that his ears had picked up, that didn't sound exactly as it should. Something familiar, that he almost, for a fraction of a second, related to himself, but would never, ever have let pass his lips. And though he'd never say it, he knew the part of the soul where a cry like that would originate. An image of Hojo's lab flickered into his mind.  
  
He brushed the thought aside quickly and pulled his katana, the tremendous Masamune, out of the writhing man who lay at his feet. The writhing quickly stopped.  
  
Sephiroth followed the sound through the underbrush of the outskirts of Wutai, to a small grey tent. He wondered what a woman would be doing in one of his Soldiers' tents, and he peered inside.  
  
She lay curled up in a fetal position, a dark haired, fair skinned Wutain woman. She was naked save for a shred or two of clothing that still hung on her. The clothing wasn't peasant clothing either, but that of a noblewoman. Blood dripped steadily onto the ground.   
  
"What the hell just happened?" was all Sephiroth thought, as he leaned on the hilt of Masamune and took in the scene. Her cries had all but stopped, but she was still alive, and she lifted her head weakly, and saw him in the tent with her.   
  
She didn't shrink back in horror as most of the enemy, (and quite a few of his own soldiers) always did. Her face was swollen and bloody, but he recognized her at once as Godo's woman.   
  
"What happened?" he asked her sternly. He'd found that it was best to be impassive in intense situations. Although, it was easy to figure out, by her shredded clothes and the very personal beating she seemed to have taken, what had happened.  
  
She didn't answer, but glared at him, with both hatred and shame.   
  
It could not... -could not- have been one of his men, or so he thought at first... but...  
  
But denying the obvious was something that the weak and stupid did. Sephiroth may have been a lot of things in his life - some of those things perhaps less than positive, or at least some people thought so. But he had never been stupid, and he certainly wasn't weak. ("Anymore," he mentally corrected himself, thinking fleetingly once more of Hojo's lab.)  
  
"Was it ShinRa?" he asked her calmly.  
  
She nodded, and closed her eyes as she turned her face away from him.   
  
"I see," he answered. "Then I'll deal with it. Can you tell me who it was?"  
  
She didn't answer, and he turned to leave, hoping there would be time to confront the person responsible. A harsh whisper called him back.  
  
"General," she croaked out weakly.  
  
Not showing any of the hesitation he felt, he went back inside the tent and came closer to her, as she seemed him to want to do. He looked more closely at her. The SOLDIER had obviously cut her, as well. In fact, he had lain her open all the way down her side as far as he could see, and probably down her front too. He thought it might be possible for him to help her temporarily, since he did have some Restore Materia with him, but it wasn't likely it would do much good. It wouldn't be his first choice to use it on the enemy; however, this was not a soldier dying in front of him. It was a civilian, and not only a civilian, but a woman, at that.  
  
Women did fight in ShinRa, and in fact some of the finest SOLDIERS he had trained had been women, but they were not like this woman. This one would never have been a soldier in anyone's army. Her skin, the skin that was uninjured at any rate, was pale and delicate. Her arms were thin and her hands were tiny. She simply had not been built for fighting, and had probably never fought in her life.   
  
She was struggling to say something to him and he leaned closer, ignoring the smell of blood, which he was so used to. Even Restore Materia, he thought, might not be enough, and it would be foolish to waste it on a lost cause. Materia was hard to come by in Wutai.   
  
"Disgraced..." she said, as her small hand grabbed his long coat and tugged weakly. "Don't let my girl..."  
  
He leaned closer, trying to discern her words through the blood in her mouth.   
  
"My girl... don't want her to see..."  
  
"You have a daughter," he stated, as he began to understand what she was telling him.   
  
She nodded. There was no more hate in her eyes, but there was shame, and intense imploration that bordered on demand. "Can't let her see... disgrace..."  
  
Sephiroth took an involuntary step back from her as he realized that she was asking him to end her disgrace, as she saw it. "But it's not your disgrace," he pointed out. "Whoever did this, he..."  
  
She was shaking her head quickly. "End it," she said. "You don't understand."  
  
He didn't understand. There was much about Wutai and its ways that he didn't understand. Any woman he had ever met would carry on, and seek revenge. He thought for a moment of Scarlet. Scarlet might not have had much respect for herself, that was obvious in how she spoke about herself and how she behaved, but she was at least a survivor.  
  
"Please," she whispered, suddenly angry, and gathering a small amount of strength with her anger. "Your SOLDIER did this... YOUR responsibility! You owe me this, if you have any honor, General Sephiroth, do it!"  
  
She grabbed the blade of Masamune and pulled it towards her, trying to impale herself on it, but she didn't have the strength. There was no way she'd be able to do it herself.  
  
Of course, aside from her idiotic notion of disgrace, she was obviously in terrible pain, and it wasn't likely that he could help her anyway, in the long run. She would probably never be the same, even if she did manage to live. Or, if he tried to help her, she would probably kill herself anyway, once she was able.  
  
He had never killed a civilian woman before, and the feeling of his sharp blade slipping through her fragile body was more than unnerving. He winced slightly at the feeling, and at the sight of how easily it had cut through her. She had no armor, no clothing, she barely had any muscle tone to her body for that matter. It had felt like... well it had felt like pressing a hot knife into butter. It was unpleasant and he hoped to never feel that again. But at least it was over quickly.   
  
He pried her fingers off of his blade as he pulled it out, and she fell limp.   
  
Sephiroth stepped outside, glad to be away from the scene he had left, and went around the back of the tent. In the distance, he could see one of ShinRa's SOLDIERS, walking away. He was fairly tall and broad, and carried a Buster sword, much like the one that Zack, Sephiroth's second in command, carried. Only this man's sword was not as well made as Zack's. Sephiroth could also see that he was shamelessly buckling his belt. He could just about make out the insignia on the belt, as the man pulled it around his hips; the "SOLDIER" insignia was difficult to miss, even at a distance, especially the First Class ones. "First Class," he muttered to himself. He knew exactly who the man was.  
  
He had told the woman he would deal with it, and so he would. He turned and went back inside the tent.  
  
  
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"Where ya goin', Gilad?"  
  
"Going to bed," Gilad answered sharply. It had been a long day and he had been wounded by a goddamned Wutain soldier. More than wounded, in fact; another SOLDIER First Class had to bring him back around with Materia. It was worse than painful. It was humiliating. Everyone else was gathering inside a large tent that served as mess hall for food and drink. They were near to celebrating a victory, and they could feel it. But Gilad wanted no part of it. He'd relieved some of his frustration and anger on some high class Wutain woman early in the day, while scouting the outskirts, but in the end, he was feeling low anyway.   
  
Once in his own tent, he felt only slightly better. There was still a dull ache in his leg where he had been bludgeoned. The bone had snapped almost in half, and even after the bone had been healed, the skin over it had swelled up until it nearly split. It had taken a good few hours before he could even walk. Thank the Planet for high level Restore; he was able to continue the battle.  
  
The physical pain, he told himself, he could take. He wasn't SOLDIER First Class, under command of the great General Sephiroth, for nothing. But sometimes, just sometimes, it was the fatigue that really got to him. Not physical, either. Even that could be taken care of by Materia and Potions, and a good solid rest once in a while. It was fatigue of the mind and of the spirit. He guessed that all SOLDIERS, even First Class, got that sometimes. And the frustration. But that was all part of ShinRa. It was Heart Attack Central. More people dropped dead of heart attacks at ShinRa than anywhere else.   
  
So maybe he'd found a somewhat dishonorable way of dealing with the frustration. But as long as it was a secret, it might as well never have happened. The fact that no one would find out about it, would be enough to let him get on with his life.   
  
And what had the stupid woman been doing out there anyway? She'd been calling out a name, looking through the bushes. Maybe she'd lost her cat. Gilad allowed himself a small chuckle. Stupid Wutain woman.  
  
It was pitch dark in his tent, and he turned on his little battery powered light next to his cot. He was surprised enough to see someone sitting at his small table, that he immediately drew his sword.  
  
General Sephiroth opened his eyes. *Had he been sleeping?* Gilad wondered, feeling excited and terrified at the same time. He then realized that, no, he hadn't been sleeping, only keeping his eyes closed so they wouldn't glow. But, he wondered why he would do that. It could only be so that his presence would be a surprise.   
  
He was terrified of his leader, just like everyone else was. And yet he idolized him as well. He wanted to ask what the General was doing in his tent, but didn't want to be out of line. Sephiroth went where he wanted, when he wanted, and he hardly needed reasons.  
  
"General, Sir," he managed to stutter, snapping his hand to his head in a salute.  
  
"SOLDIER Gilad," Sephiroth said mildly, with a small nod. He didn't say anything after that. He remained seated, with his feet propped up on Gilad's table, his chair tipped back almost casually. Almost. Something about him kept him from ever seeming totally casual. His black trench coat trailed to the floor behind him, as did his bizarre looking silver hair. He truly was some kind of freak, but Gilad had no choice but to respect him anyway. He'd certainly seen him before, but never quite this closely. Sephiroth hadn't trained him personally and he'd only ever seen him from a distance.  
  
In most cases, people who looked impressive from a distance were usually unremarkable up close. Not so this man. He was just as tall and imposing up close, even sitting down. Gilad had heard one or two SOLDIERS, most notably SOLDIER First Class Zack, offhandedly calling the General "Seph." To his face, no less! And the crazy part was, Sephiroth didn't seem to mind. But Gilad would never have the nerve to try that.   
  
The giant sword Masamune, a name that was almost synonymous with Sephiroth, was propped against the tent behind him. He realized that he was simply staring at the General, probably with his eyes bugging out of his head.  
  
Sephiroth seemed to be waiting for him to speak. "Yes, Sir?" was all he could manage.  
  
"Did you fight in a battle today, Gilad?" Sephiroth asked.   
  
"Yes, Sir," he answered promptly.  
  
"I also heard that you were injured in battle."  
  
Gilad wasn't sure how to answer that. He began thinking carefully how he'd handle the question. Was it commendable and honorable to be badly wounded in battle? Or would it show his weakness? He finally shrugged carelessly. "I can deal with it," he said.  
  
"Oh, there's no question of that," Sephiroth answered coolly. "You're SOLDIER First Class."  
  
"That's right, Sir."  
  
Sephiroth swung his feet off the table and stood up slowly, dusting off the hem of his black coat as he did so. He smoothly, absently pushed his long silver bangs out of his face, and didn't seem to notice when they sprang right back to their former position. "Do you know why we're here, SOLDIER Gilad? Here in Wutai?" he asked, leaning over with his palms on the table. His face betrayed no emotion other than vague interest.  
  
Gilad was thoroughly thrown by the question, and wondered if any other SOLDIERS had gotten this strange little pop quiz. Maybe it was his way of checking up on his men. "To fight a war, Sir," he answered, before quickly adding, "and to win it."  
  
Sephiroth nodded. "Mm," he said. "Whom are we fighting?" he asked.  
  
"The enemy, Sir."  
  
"And who is the enemy?"  
  
Gilad was starting to wonder if this was some morale boosting pep talk. "Wutai, Sir," he answered, in his best, hard SOLDIER voice.  
  
Sephiroth tilted his head to one side and raised an eyebrow quizically. "All of Wutai, SOLDIER Gilad?"  
  
"...Sir?" he said questioningly. This was not going where he had thought.  
  
"Wutain soldiers?"  
  
"Yes, Sir."  
  
"Wutain... dogs?" Sephiroth asked, seemingly serious.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Wutain children?"  
  
Gilad was startled. He'd seen a few children of Wutai, and for that matter he'd seen a few dead ones. But he hadn't been responsible for that. With a sinking feeling, he knew what the next question was going to be. But it didn't come.  
  
"Stay here, SOLDIER Gilad," Sephiroth said, as he turned and walked out of the tent. He left his sword behind too. Gilad, even in his panic, doubted he had done so carelessly. He probably knew that no one else dared to touch it.   
  
After what seemed like hours of waiting, but was less than a minute, Sephiroth finally returned, easily carrying something that was wrapped in burlap. He placed it, almost carelessly, on the table. He didn't take his eyes off Gilad as he whipped back the flap of burlap, revealing the body of the woman.  
  
If Gilad had been frightened of Sephiroth a minute ago, he was now ready to faint. The look of vague interest he had seen before had been replaced, very quickly, by something he had hoped never to see, which was anger. Furious, thinly controlled anger.  
  
Gilad had seen people angry, he had even seen strong and impressive people angry. He had seen his superiors angry and had had the crap beaten out of him by them. It was part of being in SOLDIER. So was death, and he wasn't afraid of it. But he was terrified of General Sephiroth. Death was one thing. Death at his hands, entirely another. He couldn't say why, exactly. It wasn't a SOLDIER's death that Sephiroth would deal out - he knew this now. Death at his hands would be alien, otherwordly, lonely and unnatural. Like the man himself. Gilad wondered why he had never seen it before.  
  
"I was going to tell you all about how she talked about being shamed, about how you didn't actually kill her, but I did, because she begged me to. But the kind of man who would dishonor his rank like this wouldn't care about details like that. It concerns me," Sephiroth said, folding his arms across his chest and stepping out from behind the table. "It concerns me that there just might be more men who feel the same way, and have the same inclination towards dishonor, in these ranks. That there might be men, and maybe even women, who don't know why we're fighting, or even whom we're fighting, so long as they are allowed freedom to kill. It concerns me that other men in these ranks might lose what little control they have. Do you know," he asked, keeping his voice very quiet and controlled, "how this makes ShinRa look? Do you know how this makes the entire war look? It makes it look useless, ignoble, and unprofessional." He suddenly leaned close to Gilad. "What did this woman do to you?" he asked softly. "Please, tell me she did something to you, tell me she attacked you and almost killed you. That she killed your wife and children. Tell me," he said, shifting his weight and staring down on Gilad, "that you didn't just decide to do this."  
  
Gilad was speechless, and he knew that lying would somehow only make matters worse. He was ready to throw himself down and beg for mercy, beg to be court martialed, or anything other than to have Sephiroth give out the punishment himself. But no words came out.  
  
"I was afraid you wouldn't," Sephiroth said. "You're probably thinking that I'm going to kill you, but that wouldn't be wise. Not that anyone at ShinRa would question my decision, of course, but there is something else that you can do for me."  
  
"Anything, Sir," Gilad whispered, his tongue feeling unnaturally thick and dry. He wasn't sure yet if he should feel relieved.  
  
"I need you to educate my other SOLDIERS," he went on. "I need you to let them know exactly how I feel about this kind of unprofessional attitude in my army. If there are other men with these inclinations, I might not know about it. But I want to at least know that *they* know where I stand on this behavior."  
  
Gilad let out the breath that he had been holding. Was that really all? Did he really need only to let the other SOLDIERS know what had happened? He began to think that he could live with the dishonor of others knowing, if only he wouldn't have to be punished by Sephiroth. Maybe he was a merciful man after all. Or at the very least, resourceful enough to not want to waste a trained SOLDIER.   
  
Gilad was beginning to let himself relax a bit, when suddenly Sephiroth sighed heavily, and with his foot, nudged the woman's body roughly off the table. She fell on the hard floor like a wet sack of sand, tangled in the burlap. "I've seen you around ShinRa SOLDIER headquarters a few times," he went on, looking around the tent as if memorizing every detail. "And I've seen you train. Your weapon is a Buster sword, and you're right handed."   
  
Sephiroth almost gently removed the Buster sword from Gilad's hand. Gilad hadn't even realized he was still holding it. The General turned the sword over in his hand, easily hefting its weight as if it were a piece of tin. Without a hint of warning, and before Gilad even realized what was going on, Sephiroth had pulled Gilad's right arm onto the table, and brought the heavy Buster sword down on it, severing Gilad's hand at the wrist.   
  
Gilad had hardly felt more than a sudden burn in his arm, before looking down and seeing the wide blade wedged in the table, taking up the space where his hand should have been. His mouth fell open as he stared at the impossibility of it.  
  
Sephiroth looked up, into Gilad's eyes. "Permission to scream, SOLDIER," he said.  
  
  
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Months after the war on Wutai was over, Sephiroth had been called to the ShinRa headquarters building in Midgar for a mission. He was to choose which of the new recruits would be accepted into SOLDIER for training. It was one of his easiest missions, one that he could do in his sleep. He didn't have to give a test; he usually knew right away. You either were SOLDIER or you weren't.  
  
On his way up to see the president, he spotted Scarlet, arguing with Heidegger. He couldn't tell exactly what they were arguing about, but he could tell exactly what they were thinking. Scarlet was thinking that Heidegger was slow and stupid, and Heidegger was thinking that Scarlet was fast, and bitter.   
  
Both were, in part, quite right about the other. Heidegger was slow, like a big, lumbering animal. And he was slow to get things done too. He could have saved ShinRa a lot of trouble if he would have acted more quickly on a lot of things in the past.   
  
And Scarlet was bitter as hell. But she was a survivor. Probably not much of a fighter, physically...  
  
He immediately remembered the woman in Wutai. He'd almost put SOLDIER Gilad out of his mind - not that Gilad was in SOLDIER anymore, but he did seem to have completed his final mission. Actually he had completed it with a bit more ferver than Sephiroth had expected. Not only had he let the other SOLDIERS know that unprofessional behavior would not be tolerated by their General, but he had also convinced many of them that their General was Evil incarnate. Sephiroth rolled his eyes, thinking about it. People could be so unbearably stupid.  
  
But the woman... he had been the one to kill her. He remembered the sickening feeling of his blade cutting into her, so easily. No armor. No weapons. Just a small, trembling woman...  
  
And he vowed that he would never, ever do it again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
